


the S word

by watergator



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 07:40:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17824661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watergator/pseuds/watergator
Summary: phil worries about sex during his first week of uni





	the S word

University is… daunting, to say the least. The city is different, the people are different. The food and the streets and his perspective is different.

It’s not all bad though, he thinks. He’s gotten through the first week, albeit with tears and churning stomachs at the thought of socialisation and classes and meeting new people; but he’s pushed through the homesickness that wanted so desperately to pull him back home into his mum’s arms, and he’s stuck it out and gotten to the other side with the rest of them all.

His housemates are nice. At least that’s what he can gather from the first layer that he’s only somehow managed to get a feel for; he’s still not really hung out with them, or really gotten to know any of them besides their names, what they’re studying and the hometowns they’d all come for - basic information that he even sometimes forgets time to time, scrambling just to remember if they’re David or Richard halfway through conversation.

But other than that - it’s not all bad.   
  
Not until they’re sat in the lounge one evening. Phil had his classes earlier and he’s already feeling bogged down with it all, but the group of people he’s going to be living with for the year and sat on the sofa passing around beers when Phil takes one.   
  
He’s been trapped down here; all he’d wanted was to knick the bag of shredded cheese from the fridge to haul up into his room and spend the night watching dvd’s on his laptop, but they’d all been sat down ready to mingle and joke about, and Phil only thought it’d be rude of him to refuse when they were asking so nicely for him to join in, which was how he finds himself squished on the sofa between two girls that laugh loudly as someone else in the group tells a story.   
  
“Yeah, for my school leavers a bunch of my mates took me to this little pub in our village, yeah? Got fucked, didn’t we,” he laughs loud, swinging the half empty beer bottle in his hand. “Mum was so pissed with me, was so funny though.”   
  
Everyone laughs and Phil does the same, sips at his warm beer when everyone else does and pretends like he can’t feel his palms sweat.   
  
The girl that’s sat beside him, thigh to thigh and fat too close starts telling a story of the clubs she went to, and a few people pipe up with cheers and loud yells when they recognise names and places and begin to swap stories.

By the time everyone’s on their third bottle, Phil’s still nursing his first.

“What about you mate?” One of the guys ask. He’s tall, blonde and large with thick arms and a wonky smile. Michael, Phil thinks his name is.

“Huh?” Phil says dumbly.

Michael laughs, “Your old haunts,” he prompts him. “Any good clubs you and your mates would hang about in?”

Despite the little sips of alcohol Phil’s been engaging in all night, he feels his mouth run dry.

He tries to think of a time he’d ever even been outside a club with his friends from home, never mind actually go inside one.

Nights with his mates were spent hauled up in his room watching Buffy on video and playing Dirty Scrabble which was a game entirely created by themselves and consisted of making up words on the board and giving them their description of what obscure sex act they were, until Kath would come upstairs and tell them to keep the giggling down and they’d oblige until one of them created something so hideously funny that they’d be in fits of laughter again.

Never did they go out clubbing.

But somehow Phil finds his mouth moving without his brain actually doing any of the talking.

“Yeah,” He says with a nod. “Yeah, the clubs ‘round my place were good,” he says looking round the room.

They seem to buy it.

“Manchester a good shout then?” a girl asks, she has a London accent and Phil nods, then prays that nobody asks which kinds of clubs because he hasn’t got a single name in his head to back up his lie.

Thankfully, they don’t. They move onto somebody else who tells a story of his friend sicking up in the back of a cab on a messy night out and Phil can breathe again now the attention of the room has shifted away from him.

The night grows longer and soon enough people begin to filter out, stumbling back to their rooms with groans and yawns and the clink of bottles is what can be heard as Phil collects what he can as he clears the floor of what they’ve left behind.

He doesn’t realise Michael still standing there until he speaks up from behind him.

“Trouble keeping up, are we?”

Phil spins to face him, only to see a teasing grin on his face with Phil’s bottle of beer, still half full in his hand, swinging it with the little swoosh of liquid reaching up at the sides.

Phil feels his face burn; he quite likes Michael and the last thing he wants is him thinking Phil is a loser who can’t keep up with everybody else.

But before Phil can open his mouth and make an attempt to defend himself, Michael lets out a warm chuckle and shakes his head at him.

“I’m just messing. S’alright, I barely finished my second - think I’ll leave getting sloshed until Fresher’s, eh?” he jokes easily and Phil finds himself laughing with the tension bleeding out of his shoulders as the pair of them laugh alone in the quiet of the living room.

They stand there in a weird kind of silence until a toilet flushes upstairs and for some reason Phil finds himself turning his head to the stairs when Michael speaks up again.   
  
“Anyways, I best be getting to bed, night Phil,” he smiles kindly and with that he walks away with Phil’s beer in his hand until he stops beside the kitchen to dunk it into the recycling where he gives Phil a final look to smile at him.   
  
Phil smiles back.   
  
He quite likes Michael a lot.

*

Things at uni seem to fall into something far more relaxed. He talks to his housemates, finds a few friends in his classes and is able to talk to them beyond homework and funny jokes about the professors and actually about things he finds ease in talking about, like music and movies.

One night the house decides on a movie night, which Phil finds himself looking forward to as he plucks up a box of microwavable popcorn from the Asda shelves, along with a armful of bags of sweets - hopefully this’ll be enough, he thinks as he strides happily to the cashier.

When he returns to the house where people are talking and laughing and setting up the movie on the tv, with others setting up the couch for cushions and blankets, they see Phil return with his goods of sugary snacks and he’s rewarded with a cheer and Phil finds himself standing there smiling happily at them as they go to him to rummage around his bag, pulling out what it is they want.

*

The movie they watch is good - it’s something Phil hasn’t seen yet, and if he had seen it, then maybe he could have mentally prepared himself for the large quantity of sex scenes that fill the screen every now and then. They aren’t even obscenely graphic, but it feels like after one scene ends, it’s almost followed up with naked ass thrusting, grunts and groans and a high pitched keening that has Phil crossing his legs underneath the pillow he has rested on his lap.  
  
Thankfully the room is dark and everybody seems to be fixated on the tv ahead of them to care about Phil squirming just slightly.   
  
The girl lets out a ridiculous moan and Phil finds himself perfectly fine, until the man picks up his pace and thrusts hard and fast and begins letting out sharp and short grunts of pleasure that have Phil squeezing his thighs together in an embarrassing attempt to stop himself getting fully hard in a room full of people he’s only begun to make like him.

The movie finally ends and once one girl makes a comment about how unrealistic sex is in movies another laughs and they find themselves on the topic of sex.

Phil no longer needs to cross his legs, thankful for the control he found within himself and instead half listens to the stories swap between themselves.

The same girl before, Jess, says something about how stupid the movie was to have a guy thinking he could fuck that amount of girls and one of the guys laughs loud at her comment.

“Alright, body count. What’s yours?” he asks and Phil expects her to flip him off or make another biting remark but he’s taken aback when she simply replies.   
  
“Seven. You?”   
  
The guy grins. “Nice. I got nine.”   
  
Phil blinks at them both and suddenly it dawns on him that this might become a thing, and he’s wishing he could open his mouth and change the subject, but just as he’s debating if that seems far too obvious, someone else pipes up.   
  
“I got eight.”   
  
“Okay, hands up. Five.”   
  
Somebody snorts a laugh.   
  
Phil’s never felt more embarrassed. If everyone thinks having sex with only five people is bad, how the hell is Phil supposed to come out and say zero? Is he the only virgin here?   
  
Just as he’s having the crisis in his head, he hears his name being spoken and he feels his stomach drop.   
  
“What about little Philly over here?”

Phil swallows thickly. “Uh,” his voice cracks embarrassingly and he’s sure he’s given himself away when he looks at where Michael is sat across from him and he feels a false sense of bravado come across him.

He laughs cockily. “I don’t exactly kiss and tell,” he says and they laugh. They’re not laughing _at_ him though.   
  
“It’s all the quiet ones. Bet you’re a kinky fucker and all,” a kid named Josh says and Phil finds himself laughing and everyone else joins in.   
  
“Bet he has more than you Rach,” Adam quips playfully, “although that’s hard to beat with you, innit?”   
  
Rachel gives a false gasp of hurt before they fall about laughing. “Being in the double digits isn’t bad. Is it Phil?”   
  
Phil feels a lump in his throat but he shakes his head. “Nope. Nothing wrong with triple digits either.”   
  
The room falls quiet. Fuck. That was too far. Way too far to even be slightly believable.   
  
“What?” Michael laughs breathlessly.   
  
Phil’s brain scrambles for an answer before he lets out a nervous laugh. “Well,” he starts, clearing his throat, “not that I would know, yet. But,” he stops, looking around the room. They look slightly confused.

Fuck.   
  
“But I wouldn’t doubt Rach is on her way to knowing,” he jokes. It’s such a cheap joke, thankfully at someone he knows can take it. He waits, before everyone erupts into a loud laugh and Rachel gives him the finger playfully before he smiles almost apologetically at her.

They laugh until they’re tired and they talk more about sex and experiences and Phil listens and laughs until it’s a repeat of the other night and everyone begins to float off to their rooms with rounds of goodnights, and Phil is left with Michael again.  
  
He can feel him looking at him as Phil plucks bits of popcorn off the floor and when he looks up Michael is staring at him.   
  
“Hi,” he says and Phil feels his heart pick up speed against his ribs.   
  
“Hi,” he replies as he stands there feeling almost stupid for clenching the sticky, discarded and gross popcorn kernels in his fist.

Michael smiles at him. “See you in the morning,” is all he says with a grin and Phil feels his stomach swoop from inside of him as he watches Michael cross the room past him, shoulders brushing gently as he does so.

*

Phil lays awake in bed almost all night after that. He lays flat on his back with eyes staring wide at the ceiling above his head thinking everything over.

He likes university, but he feels like in front of these people; the people he’ll be living with for a year, that he’s some sort of version of himself that isn’t real of true.  
  
He didn’t know why he lied about clubbing, or why he didn’t just straight up say he hadn’t had sex yet - he doubted they really cared that much and they seemed nice. But maybe they were being nice because they got to know the Phil Lester that was a false projection of who he was.   
  
But he’d been honest when he’d talked about his enthusiasm for Kill Bill and had been real when he’d gushed to another Muse fan about the latest album, and they’d seemed to like him then - the real Phil, that was.   
  
He sighs. He’s spun a web of pathetic, insignificant lies that he’s afraid to face, and even worse, it seems as if these lies have created some fake spark between the boy that sleeps on the wall opposite him. Michael is nice. Really nice, and he’s lying to him without even trying.   
  
He wants to tell him that he refrained from having sex not only because it wasn’t exactly as if he was attracting everyone to his bed with his Buffy rambles and his love for explaining why Speed was and will forever be the best action movie of all time - but because his hometown was too small and cramped of people that he knew the faces, names and families of to have room to stretch his legs and discover what sex was like and who he wanted to experience it with.   
  
University was a good opportunity for that. People loved getting drunk, fucking and getting drunk again all for the fun of it; a no strings attached kind of experiment for the satisfaction of having some good sex in a world of freedom of no adults lurking around the next room over.   
  
He remembers the last time he’d seen his brother was the day he moved up here, and in a half assed attempt to maybe pass down any kind of older brother wisdom to a poor anxious Phil, he’s thrown a condom packet at his head before he left the room and told him to “keep it covered.”   
  
Phil had watched porn. Lots of it, and his deleted search history was evident of that, buried away on his laptop, but porn and movie scenes weren’t real and they weren’t any kind of guide to what sex was. Especially gay sex. He had no idea where to start with that.   
  
The porn he watched that involved any kind of gay sex would skip the parts that could have been informative for him, but of course, no one was really watching these videos to learn on how exactly what goes where and how - and Phil just hoped that if the time ever came around, that he’d be with someone that maybe understood his situation and took pity on him for being a utterly clueless, hopeless virgin to the big scary world of sex.   
  
He thinks of Michael. Thinks of his floppy blonde hair and his nice brown eyes and the way his arms almost bulge out of the tight tee’s he likes to wear. He bets a guy like that probably was having loads of sex in school - and that’s probably the reason he looks at Phil they way he does.   
  
Michael probably thinks Phil knows how to do it, and Phil’s afraid he’ll learn he doesn’t know how.

He sighs again. He closes his eyes, hoping he’ll just fall asleep and let the problem that bubbles around in his head will disappear long enough for him to switch off just for a couple of hours. And it works.

* 

The next morning Phil wakes early, only because of the way his body is rolled over, and his hard dick is pressing into his matress. He groans, only because he has the bare minimum engery to get himself off - and he’s sure he’s only hard because he watched that sex scene last night before bed, and after a couple of minutes of hoping it’ll go away by itself, he listens out for any movement in the house before turning his head to read his clock that flashes at him that it’s not even gone seven yet.   
  
He sighs as he rolls over onto his back and grabs blindly for the lotion he has in his drawer that he’s left open.   
  
He quickly pumps it into his palm a little shakily before reaching down into his pyjamas to take a hold of himself.   
  
He tugs, slow at first before he speeds up his pace, tipping his head back against his pillow, taking even breaths that he hopes are quiet enough.   
  
He fist closes around himself tight before he brings it up to rub up against where he knows he likes it, and he’s already close. His toes curl inside his socks and his ass lifts off the matress a little.   
  
One wall over he hears a noise, and Michael must be awake because he hears the same yawn and moan he’s been getting used to hearing every morning, and it’s something as simple as that that has him giving a final twitch and he’s spilling hard into his fist rather messily.   
  
Once the aftershocks of his orgasm wash over him, he’s overcome with guilt. He flies out of bed and runs his messy hand on a discarded shirt and he’s leaving his room to head to the bathroom to wash away the shame that sits heavy on his skin.   
  
Just before he can reach the door for the toilet, he runs into Michael who’s stood shirtless just in his trackies.   
  
“Morning,” Michael says chirpily and Phil feels his stomach twist.   
  
“Hey,” he says weakly and Michael smiles at him and continues his way downstairs whist Phil makes a dart for the bathroom, shutting the door and closing his eyes, hoping if he doesn’t think of anything anymore it’ll go away.   
  
*   
  
It doesn’t go away. Michael continues of the weird verge of flirting with Phil over the next few weeks that leaves him a blushy, weird, awkward mess, that leads him to spending one night just the two of them alone in the house whilst everyone’s out, digging into the box of beers that Michael wants to finish.   
  
They talk - mostly Michael, about himself, his family, stories from before uni and Phil listens whilst he necks the rest of his beer, hoping that the alcohol will provide him with some sort of confidence to get through this.   
  
Eventually, Michael transitions from a conversation about how he close he is with his parents to his coming out story to them. It doesn’t shock Phil like he thought it would - it’s not as if Michael has a big rainbow stamp on his forehead, but he wasn’t exactly giving off the vibe he was straight either.   
  
Phil does feel a little brave after all.

“Well, I haven’t told mine yet,” he laughs into his drink, taking a sip and Michael doesn’t seem phased at all. Maybe he had the same ideas about him too.  
  
Instead he smiles. “That’s okay,” he says simply.   
  
Phil nods, because it is okay.   
  
Michael scoots over to where they sit together on the couch until his leg is touching his.   
  
“I was hoping you were gay. You’re like, really fit,” Michael confesses like it’s the easiest thing ever. Phil swallows thickly.   
  
“Yeah?” He finds himself saying, voice low and Michael nods.   
  
“Uh huh. Like really fucking fit. I don’t usually go for guys like you, but you’re like - you’re cute.”   
  
Phil feels his heart kick hard against his ribs and his palms sweat so bad he’s afraid he’ll lose his grip on his beer bottle.   
  
But he doesn’t , and instead grips it tighter when Michael leans into him.   
  
“Can I kiss you?”   
  
Phil doesn’t reply but instead leans into it until his lips are on his. They’re plump and soft and nice and taste like beer but he doesn’t care because Michael’s hand in on his leg and he can feel every inch of his skin buzz.   
  
They stay like that, kissing on the couch, letting their lips smack wetly. They’re drunk. He knows that and Michael knows that, but it doesn’t stop Michael inching his hand up his leg and Phil letting a little moan past his lips that Michael swallows up with his mouth.   
  
“Fuck,” Michael laughs breathlessly as he eventually pulls away, and Phil almost whines at the loss of his lips. “We’re so fucking drunk. Are you okay with this?” he asks, looking at Phil for real for a moment and it takes Phil a while to realise what he means by that.   
  
“Yeah,” he replies maybe too quickly because if he’s about to have sex for the first time he doesn’t mind if it’s Michael. He can pretend to him that he knows what he’s doing and put whatever mistakes he makes to the four beers he’s already had, and it’s a scary thought, but his body wants this.   
  
Right?   
  
Michael kisses him again, harder and wetter this time and Phil slips his tongue into his mouth and groans at the way that Michael sucks on it.   
  
“This is just for fun, yeah?” Michael breathes against his lips and Phil nods and once he does, Michael is standing up and already pulling his shirt off.   
  
Everything has escalated so fast as he watches the man before him, strip off his clothes and throw them to the floor with a giggle.   
  
Phil sits on the sofa and watches him when Michael takes the bottle out of his hand and places it on the table.   
  
When he comes back to him, his large hands are resting on his still clothed crotch and Phil feels the air get punched from his lungs.   
  
“Can I take these off?” Michael asks with a slur of his voice, and Phil, afraid to even use his and just nods.   
  
Michael works the zipper of his jeans down and pulls them off of legs rather harshly.   
  
Now he’s just sat in his boxers, with another guy in his boxers, hard in his pants and his heart beating so fast in his chest he thinks he’s going to be sick.

“Fuck,” Michael giggles as he moves towards Phil on the sofa, and once again his hands rest over him and Phil can’t help but buck into the feather light touch he has on him. Michael laughs again but Phil doesn’t care because his head is pounding with the rush of blood that flows fast around him.  
  
Michael kisses him again and Phil feels a little better; he’s okay with the kissing. He’s kissed before, it’s something he’s comfortable with but he can still feel Michael’s nice soft hands run over his almost naked body and he can feel his stomach flip and his chest heaves with nerves.   
  
He’s trying to talk himself down from it all; to convince his brain not to be so scared of having sex.   
  
But just as he’s inside of his own head arguing with himself, Michael pulls away and murmurs against his wet lips.   
  
“How d’you like it?” he whispers, and that’s all it takes for Phil to burst into tears.   
  
Poor Michael pulls away so fast, as if he’s been burned as Phil brings his hands to his face and sobs pathetically into his palms.   
  
He’s not hard anymore, and he feels so stupid just sat here in his underwear with a nice guy.   
  
“Phil?” Michael says, carefully and Phil looks up at him through tears that distort his vision until he blinks and it’s clear again.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he croaks, and he notices Michael pick his shirt off the floor and offer it to him, draping it over his lap. It only causes another sad sob to escape him.   
  
Once Michael is dressed again and he’s grabbed Phil’s jeans off the floor to pass to him, Michael is sat beside him, running a hand through his messy hair with a sigh.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Phil says again now that the sobs have ceased and now only little hiccups escape him. Michael sighs again.   
  
“It’s okay. We’re like really drunk. It was stupid, you’re my friend and -”   
  
“No,” Phil interrupts him and Michael looks up at him.   
  
“I’m sorry because,” he takes a deep shuddery breath. “I’m sorry because I don’t know what I like because,” another sob erupts from him and he sees Michael move over to him by an inch.   
  
“I lied,” he says sadly, looking down. “I lied to you all. I’ve never done that stuff. I thought you liked me because you thought I had and,” he looks up at him again before quickly looking away.   
  
“And I didn’t want you to think I was boring.”   
  
There’s silence, and Phil still wont look up to look him in the eyes, not until he feels him shift in his seat beside him, and a warm gentle hand rests on his shoulder.   
  
“Phil,” he speaks softly and it feels so inviting and warm and comforting. “I don’t care if you’ve had sex before. I literally don’t care - you’re like, the coolest person I know.”   
  
Phil scoffs, wiping away tears from his face, but Michael doesn’t give up that easily.   
  
“No seriously. You’re like really fucking smart. You talk about that bloody vampire show you like so much, I’m think I’m gonna have to start watching just to keep up with you,” he jokes.

He knows Michael is only trying to ease the tension; to bring in some banter to the conversation and Phil smiles at him weakly.

“God, Phil. There’s nothing wrong with,“ he stops to huff a heavy sigh. “Being a virgin. I bet half the fuckers in his house have only done half the things they’ve said they’ve done,“ he laughs and Phil laughs with him.

God, now he feels even more stupid. Everyone here is more or less in the same boat; people to impress other people even in the most dumbest ways possible.  
  
Phil finds himself laughing, tears still escaping him as he feels a swirl of emotions around him.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Phil says after they’ve stopped laughing and Michael simply shakes his head.   
  
“It’s okay Phil, I’ve had plenty of drunk mistakes, and this wasn’t one of them.”   
  
Phil smiles warmly at him. “Thanks,” he whispers.   
  
Michael smiles back, before clapping his hands together. “Right. If I’m gonna have to hear you ramble on about this Angel guy, then I’m expecting a full marathon of hot vampire guys.”   
  
Phil lets out a laugh before Michael slaps his leg playfully. “Go on Lester. Go get your dvd collection out of hiding from your room and see how many episodes we can squeeze in before everyone comes homes and inevitably bullies us for it.”   
  
Phil snorts a laugh with a roll of his eyes as he stands, ready to dash upstairs and get his box set out to watch with him.   
  
As he runs up the stairs he feels a weight being lifted from his chest and when Michael calls him impatiently to hurry back with sexy shirtless vampires, it’s like he can finally breathe again.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr !! @watergator


End file.
